Sankofa of a Failed White Man

By Justin Hubbell, Contributing Writer

"I used to want to change the world. Now I just want to leave the room with a little dignity."
-Lotus Weinstock

Aint that the truth? I'll be god damned if doing the right thing isn't the hardest game I've ever played. When I say "doing the right thing," I'm not talking about being kind to people, because there are plenty of people who believe they're doing their civic duty by being nice all the time. What a load of garbage.

Being nice. Not hurting anyone. No yelling. Politeness. Nice.
If you can't hold up to these standards, then smoke enough pot to make it happen.

At the end of the day, you get to hazily raise your fist and croon, "hey man I'm doing my part."

If this isn't enough, then try going to three or four events, or if you're really radical, then try joining a group on campus. Yeah.
If all else fails, find Jesus and save yourself.
Or if you're not into religion, find Obama and save yourself.
I digress. When I began college, I wanted "to do the right thing." I joined the NAACP. Like many people who want "to do the right thing," I was completely oblivious. My brow was in a perpetual state of corrugation. I couldn't comprehend why we never discussed any issue apart from the African American community.

Well. There's actually quite a difference between "colored people" and "people of color." Go figure. I jumped ship when the opportunity presented itself and joined The Fahari-Libertad.

This is where I waged war against Whitey. Slightly more educated, I went to work at drawing satirical attacks against the WASP society. Too dangerous, the comics were censored. The result was a monstrosity, a self-explaining, self-deprecating pile of badly rendered horse shit.

Am I not an artist? Am I not "to do the right thing"? How dare they castrate my work! I jumped ship again. In fact I got a chartered flight this time. I made my own group. I'll add that at this point, I was even more educated.

"Whites Against Racism." Hell yeah. Fucking radical, man. Eat that shit.
It was my idea. I was the president.
And in all seriousness, what a great name.

The beauty of "Whites Against Racism" was that you knew exactly who was supposed to join and why. But, of course, a group like that can't operate unless everyone is comfortable, so we became "Students Against Racism."

Woof.

That wasn't my decision. That was the collective decision. The majority. I'm going to go off on another tangent and say that if you decide to ever become a leader, then own the title and lead. Leaders are vital to communities, and groups. The power of a leader is that if the group catches hell, you can blame everything on one person. The leader is held accountable, and the people behind the group get off the hook. If you're not a good leader, however, then none of your efforts will matter.

I wasn't a good enough leader, so I allowed the group to become a democracy. Long story short, it wasn't even a democracy so much as a group therapy session. And to make a shorter story shorter, it wasn't group therapy so much as an exclusive soap box hand-out. When it was your time to speak in that group, you spoke. And if it wasn't, then fuck it. And some people didn't get time, and other people didn't want time, and everyone who wandered in the room promptly left.

The most we ever accomplished was a showing of a film. Unless of course you count the time we went to an anti-racism workshop to collect our official "I-went-to-the-anti-racism-workshop" certificate. This semester, I threw in my towel, and the group caved in on itself. I told you it was my idea, after all. Every time I see an ex-member, I tremble with my White Guilt™. How could I? I was "doing the right thing," and I quit.

Here's another quote for you:
"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
-Harvey Dent from The Dark Knight

The fact of the matter is that you can't "do the right thing" and live comfortably. The people I know who are actually doing the right thing are some of the most reckless, masochistic people I know. Not a single one of them goes to SUNY New Paltz by the way. If they accomplish something, then they wipe the sweat from their brows and get back to work. No certificates, no plaques, no "give yourself a hand." These people throw themselves at their work.

I can't do that. I don't have the energy. I'm definitely too horny. And when I'm dead, I better have gotten my rectangular piece of wood with brass accessory. I want that plaque. I know now what I have to do, in order to do the right thing. I can't do it yet, not in college.

I'm too comfortable in college. I'm going to need some money though. Fuck.